Fire And Ice
by DreamsInBlackAndWhite
Summary: So this was what death felt like. Ash listened to the rush of blood in his ears, his hair ruffling with the unnatural wind as he plummeted, a gaping hole blown in his chest. He supposed it was fitting, in a way. For Jusmine.


**_Disclaimer: I own nothing. The poem in the fic and the title of the story come from Fire and Ice by Robert Frost_**

**_-This is dedicated to the wonderful Jusmine who is the nicest person on the face of the planet. Never has anything bad to say about anyone and has been reading and reviewing my stuff from the very start. Thank you and Merry Christmas! That's right Jusmine, it's another puppy-dog Ash fic. Set just after Ben shot Ash in Snakehead. Hope you don't mind...._**

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_Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice_

So this was what death felt like. Ash listened to the rush of blood in his ears, his hair ruffling with the unnatural wind as he plummeted, a gaping hole blown in his chest. He supposed it was fitting, in a way. He'd betrayed John to the flames of explosion and now he was going to drown. If the blood-loss didn't get him first.

When it came down to it, it was just a simple choice. John could have chosen to go with Scorpia, go with Rothman and Gregorovich. Then, none of this would have happened. Ash would've waited for Helen. Waited for her to just let John go and accept him. She loved him, really.

In a different way than John, in a different life. She loved him more than anyone else, but John was just that little bit above him. Ash loathed himself more than anyone else and then, then he'd met Helen and she loved all the things he hated about him. God, he loved being loved. It had never happened before that someone had seen past the sarcastic, ugly, nasty person to see him. Him.

And he loved her for it. He loved her for so many reasons. She was just so...so....unattainable. Women like Helen didn't look twice at men like him. Especially him.

_From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire._

Maybe he would take it. Swap John's life for his own, just to love her. Hell, he'd swap with John in life any day, even without Helen. John was so perfect. No wonder he got the girl. He was too perfect. Too funny, too charming, too good-looking. Ash wanted to just drag John down to the level of every other human on the planet, just so that he could see what it was like to look at something so perfectly perfect from so low.

To gaze at the stars from Earth.

John was too perfect. Helen was just right. John made Ash feel stupid and childish. One word from Helen and he was right up there with her, more confident than ever before in his life.

His life. Two hollow words. He led a hollow life. Until she came into it and filled him with meaning.

And he hadn't realized Helen would be on the plane with John. He felt like nine inch knifes were being wedged under his nails, like he was being eaten from inside out when he'd seen her step out of the car. But he couldn't go back. He had to do it. He had to. At least she would die knowing only how much he loved her. At least she didn't suffer.

Oh crap! He could practically feel memories tug at him, the blood pumping in his ears, the pain in his chest, the odd sensation of plummeting fading into the background, a distant drumbeat. He tried desperately to not see them, the ghosts of the past. If he started looking, he would unravel like a sweatshirt with a hole in it. But no. He never stood a chance.

_But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate_

All he could think of was his last real conversation with Helen before Malta.

_"Ash, please, take care of John"._

_"Don't you think it should be the other way around?"_

_"No. You can look after yourself, even I will worry myself sick about you. But John's a bit, well, softer than you think. Than everyone thinks. Please, Ash. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him"._

_"You'll worry about me?"_

_"Of course. I'll miss you so much. I feel like we can talk about anything at all. You never get mad at me or ditch me to go to the pub. You don't mind if I ditch you to go to the pub with John. I can take you to the ballet or the theatre and you never complain, not even once. You're my best friend, Ash. And I depend on you more than you know. Especially now John has gone away again"._

_"Helen, listen, I-"_

_"No. You listen. Anthony Sean Howell, I love you. You're the big brother I never had. We could have been siblings, you and me. I love you probably more than is healthy. John would get jealous if he didn't moan his way through anything cultural, shopping orientated or family related. So, in a weird way, I love you"._

_"I love you too, Helen. More than you know"._

_"You know what? Let's go out and go clubbing or to the pub or something"._

_"I think you've read my mind"._

The look in her eyes. The gentle touch of her fingers on his bicep. The sound of her voice, full of affection for him. Him. Nobody else, just him. He'd found something. Had an epiphany. He supposed it was a bit late, but now, now he didn't care anymore. He'd waded through shit all his life and by God, she made it all worth it. He'd hated every inch of his being, of himself. Every painful memory. Even the name his lowlife father inflicted on him.

The bullying in school. The awkward teenage years. The miserable beginning at MI6. Finding some kind of friend in John. No, some kind of ally. And then her. Would he trade it? Trade the love she had for him, with all his massive flaws for her love of the perfection coated John Rider? The fact that he was harder to love just made the emotion all the stronger.

No. The answer was a resounding no. Maybe, for the instant gratification of her adoration he would swap. But the loathing he had for himself, it seemed justified when he compared it to the love she gave him. Not the love he wanted, not the relationship he wanted. But who was he to be disappointed when she'd loved him more than it was healthy?

_To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice._

What did it matter? He loved her more than John ever did. All that changed was how they died. With her. Grieving for her for fourteen years before finally, _finally _realizing there was no point to living after he'd had her love. He held on to that and smirked. As he smashed from his almost nirvana-like state and plunged through the icy barricade of water, knocking the breath from his lungs, he felt one last smile tug at his lips.

So what? He was far from perfect. It didn't matter. She loved him. Like a brother. Enough to miss him. To worry for him. To think about him and care for him no matter where he was. To not be angry that in the end, he killed her.

And for the first time in Anthony Sean Howell's life, everything was fine.

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**_All done, people. Hope you liked._**


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